Losing You
by K.R. Winston
Summary: He was her release. She was his favorite escape. He needed her and she needed him. That's the way it had always been. The way it would always be.
1. Take It Away

**Something new. I'm not sure how much I like it so I really need some feedback on this story. I pretty much know where it's going so I'm planning to continue it. Rory is a little out of character but it was necessary for the plot line. So I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls (obviously).**

**Chapter One: Take It Away**

* * *

She twirled quickly in front of the mirror, her skirt flipping up slightly. She smiled at herself, pulling her hair over her shoulders and sweeping her newly cut bangs out of her eyes.

"You look beautiful, babe."

Rory turned to smile at her mother in gratitude. "You don't think it's too plain?"

Lorelai shook her head slowly. "Perfect for an end of summer party."

Rory turned back toward the mirror and nodded. She smoothed the wrinkles on her simple white tank top and straightened out her skirt. It was her absolute favorite skirt. It was green, hit mid-thigh and had a border resembling some type of flower cut into the bottom, showing just a little more leg than she normally would. She'd run a flat iron through her hair and let it hang loose. Fitting enough for the last summer escape, she thought.

"Where is this party again?" Lorelai asked and Rory turned to her as she slipped her feet into her light flip flops.

"Louise's house," she said, grabbing her bag from the desk chair.

Lorelai nodded. "And you're staying there?"

Rory shrugged. "If it gets too late. Otherwise I'll just come home. Can I take the jeep?"

"Sure. Try to be back around noon tomorrow though okay?"

Rory nodded again, leaning up to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in the morning, mom."

"Have fun, sweetie." She smiled and Rory nodded, moving towards the front door. "Rory?"

She looked over her shoulder expectantly and Lorelai sighed. "Just," she paused. "Just be careful okay?"

Rory nodded slowly in understanding. "Kay. Bye, mom." And with that she was out the door, closing it carefully behind her and taking the stairs quickly. She pulled herself into the jeep and started it, mentally preparing herself for what she was sure this evening would bring.

–

Louise's house was nothing short of spectacular. It was huge, bigger than almost any home in Hartford. Except maybe one, she thought, shutting off the car and stepping out. She made her way up the stone drive and opened the door, letting herself in.

The second she stepped inside the door she was bombarded with music and an already very tipsy Louise. "Rory!" She squealed, doing her best to reach the girl without falling over. She reached her arms out and let herself fall against Rory, wrapping her arms around the other girl's neck. "You're here!"

Rory laughed. "I wouldn't have missed it." She shook her head. "How much have you had to drink tonight, Louise?"

Louise took an unsteady step back and frowned in confusion, attempting to count. After a few failed attempts to do the math on her fingers and she shook her head and grinned. "Not enough!" She exclaimed and Rory raised her eyebrows. "He's been looking for you," she slurred excitedly.

Rory sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. "Why am I not surprised," she mumbled under her breath and Louise hiccuped.

"He looks really good tonight."

Rory shook her head, the hint of a smile on her face. When did he ever not? She let out a deep breath and wandered away from Louise, in search of a drink. She made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a mixture of something she wasn't quite sure of. Taking a sip she closed her eyes as the burn of alcohol made it's way down her throat. If this night was going to end up the way she assumed it was she was definitely going to need this. And maybe even a couple more.

"I see you've found the good stuff."

Rory turned at the familiar voice and smiled as Madeline reached for the few bottles beside her, pouring herself another drink. Rory nodded.

"I think I'll need it tonight."

Madeline chuckled. "He's outside, if you were wondering."

Rory shrugged, an attempt to remain nonchalant. "I wasn't."

"You were," Madeline argued. "And if I were you I'd find him before he finds you. We really don't want another scene like the last one."

She sighed as Madeline gave her a pointed look before making her way back into the other room. Rory leaned back against the counter. She should go and find him, she knew. And it wasn't that she didn't want to see him. God, she always wanted to see him. But he wasn't something she really wanted to deal with tonight. She was tiring of the way that they were. She knew exactly what would happen when she found him. He would be frustrated. He was always frustrated when he was drinking. He would tell her how amazing she looked. Probably comment on her skirt. It would go the way it always did. And she wouldn't stop him. She wouldn't tell him that she just wanted to take him home tonight and let him sleep it off. She never did. And she never would. Because in truth, she needed the lies just as badly as he did.

So she pushed herself off the counter and made her way to the back door. She pushed through the sliding doors to the patio and made her way out into the yard. It took her a few moments to spot him in the crowd. But he was there. He was leaning against a tree in the middle of the yard, surrounded by a few select others. He was always surrounded by someone at these stupid parties; he was forever their king.

She made her way over to him slowly, fighting the urge to quicken her pace. He glanced up at her as she got closer and raised his beer bottle to her, as if it was a welcoming gesture. She hated the way he did that. It was cocky. When she reached the group she stood a few people away from him. Mostly just to frustrate him. To make him feel the way he made her feel with his beer bottle raise. It was always that way with them, always a game, a competition. It always had been. He pushed himself off of the tree and locked his eyes on her. She looked up, feeling his gaze burning a hole through her. He announced that he needed another drink, never taking his eyes off of her. Some guy next to him reached out to slap his hand before he slipped away from the group.

Rory let him walk a few steps before moving away as well. She caught up to him when he sat down on the stone steps leading up the house.

"I thought you needed a drink."

He glanced up at her and smirked. It made her heart fall into her stomach. His smirk always made her crazy. And he knew it. That's why he did it. "Guess I changed my mind," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. She nodded slightly and he patted the spot next to him. She sighed audibly but lowered herself to sit next to him.

"I didn't think you'd show up," he commented and she shrugged. She could hear the frustration in his voice. He didn't like to be kept waiting. Which was exactly why she was late. She heard him groan lightly under his breath, but she didn't look at him. Because that's what he wanted her to do. Instead she kept her eyes forward.

"Why are you even here, Tristan?" He looked over at her, surprised and she turned to meet his eyes. "I mean really," she paused, not being able to push the words out. They sat in silence for a few moments before she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Never mind."

Tristan let his shoulders rise and fall slowly. "I missed you," he mumbled. It was so soft that she wasn't even sure that she'd heard him correctly and her heart did that falling thing again but she shook her head.

"No. You didn't."

He let his tongue run over his lips but he didn't argue. It never did any good for him to argue with her. It just made her mad. So he sat next to her silently. Because he didn't want her to leave. He needed her. He needed to feel the way that he felt when he was next to her. He didn't know any other way to feel that. And he couldn't let himself let go of that feeling. Maybe that was selfish. But he didn't really care. He looked over at her, letting his eyes wander over her body, taking her in.

She looked over, catching his eyes as they explored her. "Like what you see?" she asked, sarcasm lacing her tone.

He nodded. "More than you know," he said. His voice was low and scratchy and it made her turn her own eyes towards him. He was looking her in the eyes now, and she could feel the need radiating off of him. She took this opportunity to take him in. He was wearing jeans that hung loose on his hips and a white long sleeved button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The top few buttons were undone and she could see the gray of his undershirt.

She bit her bottom lip and he let out a frustrated growl. She smiled lightly and looked back up at his eyes. "Let's go inside?" It came out more like a question than she'd meant it to and he smirked again, sending chills down her spine.

"Yeah," he confirmed, pulling her up as he finished the rest of beer in one long pull. He set the bottle on the step, leaving it there and she followed him inside.

The second they stepped through the door Summer was pressing herself against him. Rory bit back the urge to reach out and pull him away from her.

"Tristan," she cooed and he glanced down at her quickly. "I've been looking all over for you." When he said nothing she pressed herself closer to him. "Do you want to get a drink?"

He shook his head lightly. "No thanks," he said and she frowned.

"Oh come on," she pushed. "I'll make your night sooo much better when we get into the kitchen," she offered and he smiled lightly but shook his head.

"No." He repeated and Summer rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she said, leaning up to talk into his ear. "Come find me when you get bored."

He nodded once. That was Tristan, always keeping his options open. Rory rolled her eyes, frustrated with the scene. She would never readily admit to Tristan that she was jealous but she was sure he could tell. In all honesty she was a little surprised he didn't go off with Summer. Normally he would've been all over her, if for nothing else, to make Rory crazy.

Once she'd walked away Tristan turned to face Rory. He put a hand on the small of her back and pulled her flush against him, leaning in to press his lips to her ear. "Dance with me."

She shivered at the feel of his warm breath against her skin and pulled back slightly to look at him, surprised. He never did things like that in public. Not that everyone didn't know anyway. But it was like an unspoken rule that they wouldn't draw in any public attention. But his eyes weren't leaving hers and she never could say no to him. So she nodded slowly and let him take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.

He pulled her against him again and let his hips move against hers. Her arms reached up to wind around his neck and pull him closer. He met her eyes then and she held his gaze. "Have I told you that you look amazing?" He asked and she smiled, shaking her head.

"Not tonight."

He nodded. "Well you do." He let his hands wander down to the lowest part of her hips and tuck his thumbs underneath the waistband of her skirt. She let out a breath and he smirked. "Amazing," he repeated.

She moved her hands to the collar of his shirt, holding onto it tightly. He watched her as her eyes wandered over his chest, her hand following close behind, tracing the outline of his stomach muscles before finally sliding back up and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He sighed, letting his eyes fall closed as she touched him. "You know you're driving me crazy."

She nodded. "Call it payback," she mumbled and he let out a dark laugh. She could feel it vibrate within his chest and looked up as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Tristan." It was almost a warning.

"Hmm?"

She sighed. "What are you doing?" He opened his eyes to meet her own and saw the confusion in them. He let his tongue run over his lips and she watched him, waiting for an answer.

"Dancing with you." He said it like it happened all the time, like they always danced like this, like everyone wasn't watching them and wondering what had changed.

She let out a frustrated groan and he raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't like it?" He asked, his tone implying that he knew just how much she was enjoying it.

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't understand."

He shrugged, knowing exactly what she meant. "I just wanted to dance," he said. "It's no big deal, Mary."

She looked away from him then and the song slowed to an end. She pulled herself away from him and he watched her stand in front of him awkwardly. "I'm gonna go get a drink," she mumbled and he looked at her accusingly, a dark chuckle coming from his throat.

"Yeah," he said. "Okay."

She averted his gaze, not able to look at him. She backed away for a few steps before turning and making her way into the kitchen. What the hell just happened? They didn't do things like that. They didn't dance at parties. He didn't turn down a perfectly willing Summer to dance with her. They didn't make whatever the hell they were any type of a show. But tonight, for some reason, he was breaking all of the rules. And he had the nerve to get frustrated when she called him on it. She let out a frustrated groan and reached for the the bottle in front of her, pouring another drink.

"What the hell was _that_?"

She turned to see a very shocked and very drunk Louise being held up by a slightly less drunk Madeline. Rory merely shrugged her shoulders.

"A dance," she offered and Louise scoffed.

"That was a hell of a lot more than a dance!" She slurred. "You were basically having sex out there!"

Rory coughed, choking slightly on her drink. "We were just dancing."

Madeline smiled from under Louise's arm. "If that was just dancing I want to know what that boy does when he really wants to turn you on."

Rory felt the blush creep up into her cheeks and she shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled and Madeline just rolled her eyes and dragged Louise back into the other room.

She stayed in the kitchen for a while, sipping her drink slowly. After a few minutes she felt a presence behind her, unmoving, not speaking. Tristan. She turned to face him and saw the frustration in his eyes.

He took a step forward, taking the cup out of her hand and setting it on the counter behind her, pushing her back against it. He pulled her hair away from her neck and leaned down, letting his lips graze the skin softly before nipping at it with his teeth. She let out a low moan as he placed hot, wet kissed against the skin there. "Tristan," she breathed his name and he pushed his hips against hers. "What are you doing?"

He moved up to kiss under her ear. "There's nobody else in here Mary," he mumbled. "Just let me have my fun."

She groaned but tipped her head to the side to give him better access as he let his teeth graze over her earlobe softly. "We should stop," she mumbled.

He chuckled against her skin and she moved her hands over him, sliding them under his shirt and over the skin there, making him groan and press himself against her again.

"Tristan," she tried again, reluctantly pulling her hands out from underneath his shirt. This seemed to get his attention and he pulled back slightly to listen to her. "Could we," she started, pausing, her voice desperate.

He nodded quickly. "Come with me," he mumbled, taking her hand. She hid her surprise as he laced his fingers with hers and led her outside. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, fumbling slightly.

She smiled at his stumbling and he glared up at her. "Something funny?"

She nodded slowly as he unlocked her door, allowing her to slip into the passenger seat. She leaned back against the leather of the seat as he started the engine, putting the car into gear. He drove quickly. She closed her eyes, knowing the road they were taking by memory. She reached over and put a hand on his leg, rubbing her thumb across the fabric of his jeans. She heard him let out a low groan and she could almost see him tighten his hands on the wheel. "What's the matter? Can't handle yourself?" she teased and he reached his own hand over to put it on her bare thigh, uncovered because her skirt didn't quite reach that far. He ran his thumb in patterns against her skin.

Her eyes still closed, she let her tongue run out and over her bottom lip before biting down on it. She let her own hand make a fist around the material of his jeans.

He pulled his hand back suddenly as her eyes opened to glance down at the flushed skin of her thigh. He looked over at her quickly, raising an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Gilmore? Can't handle yourself?"

She let out a breathy laugh and pulled her hand back. "Point made."

He nodded, stopping the car and shutting off the engine. He opened the door and she followed suit, getting out of the car and following him up the walk to the front door. She looked up at the towering building in front of her and shook her head. No matter how many times she saw it his house never ceased to amaze her with it's enormity.

She followed him into the house. He dropped his keys on the table in the foyer and made his way quickly up the stairs. He held his hand back for Rory, not turning around. She glanced down and shook her head before taking it and allowing him to lead her up the stairs. He just wouldn't stop surprising her tonight.

He opened his bedroom door and pulled her inside after him, letting it close behind her before he pushed her up against it. He led his hands wander over her body, down her sides and over her hips, bunching the material of her skirt in his fists, tugging at it slightly. He looked up at her and she locked her eyes on his own. He pressed his forehead against hers. "Mmm," he hummed lightly and she reached up, letting her arms circle his back. Her hands ran up and down his spine, finally finding their way under his shirt. He took a short breath and let his head fall onto her shoulder as her hands moved around to the front of his shirt.

"God, Mary," he mumbled, his lips now against the exposed skin of her shoulder. She let her hands fall down to the waist of his jeans, resting on his belt and he moved forward, pressing himself hard against her.

She moved to undo his belt but he reached down, catching her hands and bringing them up above her head, holding them there. "Tristan," she started. He could hear the confusion in her voice and he shook his head.

"Slow," he murmured and she watched him, nodding once and allowing him to move her from the door. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her over to the bed, letting her fall into his pillows as he climbed over her. He moved his lips to her neck and she sighed. He let his mouth travel from her neck to her earlobe and down to the exposed skin at the top of her chest. She moaned as his hand traveled up her sides and rested against the side her breast. She bucked against him and he moved his other hand to her hips, holding her against the bed.

"Tristan," she tried again but he shook his head, grinning at her. She reached her hands up and ran them through his hair, a move she knew drove him crazy. He let out a groan and moved to kiss her neck again as her hands traveled to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly.

He allowed her to pull the shirt over his shoulders and throw it off the side of the bed. His hands went to the bottom of her tank top and he ran his hand under it and over her stomach, pausing at her breasts as he used his other hand to pull it off of her and it joined his on the floor.

He moved down to let his mouth explore the newly exposed skin on her stomach as her hands went back to his hair. He moved up kissing a trail from her navel to the top of her chest, nipping at her breasts through the fabric of her bra. He reached around to unclasp her bra and she let him slip it off of her.

His hands and his mouth explored the new skin as she pulled his undershirt off, lifting his face to press her lips against his for the first time all night. He moaned from somewhere in the back of his throat at the sensation of her lips finally against his. The feeling of his moan moved through her entire body as she reached down for his jeans again. This time he allowed her to undo his belt and slip them off of him. He was down to his boxers and she wore only her skirt, which he was adamant about leaving on. He lifted her skirt slightly, just enough to pull her underwear down and toss them on the growing pile of clothing, his boxers following quickly. She pulled him closer to her and he reached to the drawer beside the bed.

A few seconds later they both let out a moan as he entered her, gaining a rhythm. She let her hands wrap around his back and he let out a low growl as he quickened the pace, losing all of his control. She let her fingers move up into his hair and that drove him completely over the edge. As he moaned her name she began her own free fall.

He let his body fall against hers as he rest his head against her chest. She took a few slow deep breaths, attempting to collect herself as he rolled off of her. He kissed her forehead before moving to the bathroom.

He came out a few seconds later to find her underneath the blankets of his bed. Her skirt was on the floor and his shirt was wrapped around her.

"What was that?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at him and he shrugged, smirking.

"Something new?" He offered and she nodded slowly.

"Definitely new," she agreed, still confused and he sighed, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.

"It was," he paused. "I don't really know what it was," he admitted and she looked away from him in surprise.

"Okay," she said. They stayed in silence for a little quite as he pulled his boxers back on and moved to sit next to her on the bed. "What's going on with you tonight, Tristan?"

He looked away, avoiding her gaze. "Nothing." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't worry about it, Rory."

She sighed. "Whatever," she said. "You don't want to talk about it, fine. That's what I'm here for anyway right? Fucking you so we don't have to talk about it?"

He looked back at her then, his eyes were cold again. That rarely happened with her anymore. She wasn't used to the cold.

Tristan scoffed, nodding. "Yeah," he said. "You're right." His tone was patronizing and she gaped at him.

"You're kidding me." He looked over at her and raised both eyebrows. "You're honestly going to be mad about this!?"

"No!" He hollered, throwing his arms up in the air. "I'm just," he stopped, shaking his head and moving to hit his open hand against the wall. "Don't you ever," He shook his head again frustrated. "Forget it."

She sat in silence for a few minutes, watching him. He didn't move, just stood there, upset and confused and vulnerable. He was rarely vulnerable when she was with him, and it was never like this. He never wanted to go slow or to hold her hand or to dance with her.

"Tristan," she whispered but he didn't look at her. She stood up, his shirt falling down to the tops of her legs and she walked over to him, reaching an arm out to place her hand against his stomach. He looked down at her hand but still didn't speak, or look at her. "What's going on?"

He shook his head and moved to sit on the bed. She followed, sitting next to him. "I'm just tired of it," he said.

She looked up at him, confused. "I don't understand."

He sighed and shrugged. "It's nothing, okay?" He stopped and she scoffed. "Rory, come on. I'm just," he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm having a bad night. That's all."

She nodded. "Yeah, okay." She stood and moved to pick up her clothes but he reached out to stop her. She looked at him expectantly.

"Could you," he paused as if contemplating whether or not he should even ask her. He sighed. "Could you just stay here tonight?" She raised her eyebrows at him in surprise and he shrugged. "Look I can take you back to your car in the morning okay? I just, I don't really want to drive back to Louise's tonight."

She nodded slowly. "Okay," she agreed and he nodded back at her, moving himself underneath the blankets and holding the opposite side open for her. She bit her lip lightly before moving under the covers with him.

She lay silently, looking up at the ceiling. She'd never spent the night with him before. It was always the same. They'd come back here for a couple hours after a party, he'd drive her back to her car and depending on how late it was she would go home or crash at Madeline or Louise's. This, this was different. She wasn't even sure how this was supposed to go.

"Mary?"

She had her eyes closed now. "Hmm?"

He didn't say anything for a while and she assumed he'd changed his mind. She rolled over onto her side, away from him and she felt him roll over as well. "Thank you," she thought she heard him mumble. She took a deep breath and felt her heart drop. This was confusing. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be there for each others' whims and when they needed a release or just a night to forget everything. They weren't supposed to spend the night together. They weren't supposed to hold hands and dance in public.

Rory rolled back onto her back and let out a deep sigh. Tristan rolled over, facing her, already asleep. He one hand under his head and let his other arm drape itself across her waist. She held back the urge to move closer to him. He was doing this in sleep. It wasn't the same as what happened earlier. It had nothing to do with that.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes again and willing sleep to come. Slowly she felt herself drift off.

–

Tristan awoke the next morning to the feel of another body pressed against his own. He opened his eyes to see that sometime in the middle of the night Rory had curled up against him. He moved his arm away from her, careful not to wake her and moved out of the bed and into the bathroom. He started the shower and stepped in, letting the hot water drown out everything that happened last night. He wasn't thinking straight. He couldn't just change the rules on her. She had every right to be confused and he'd acted like a complete pansy. He'd asked her to sleep over. What the hell was that? He shook his head, water droplets falling from his hair and into his eyes.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Shaking the water from his hair. He pulled his clothes on and looked at himself in the mirror briefly. "Nothing's changed." He muttered to himself. He was still Tristan Dugrey. She was still Rory Gilmore. Nothing had changed last night. He was drunk. He was frustrated. It didn't mean anything.

He took a breath before walking back into his bedroom. He found Rory, pulling her hair back into a ponytail, fully clothed once again, the shirt she'd slept in draped over the chair beside his desk. He looked up meeting his eyes.

"So, last night," she started.

He smirked and she shook her head. "Nothing short of mind blowing," he commented and she felt herself blush.

"No complaints here," she agreed and he nodded, raising an eyebrow at her. They stood there in silence for a while before she shook her head at him and he grinned. "I should get home."

He nodded. "Right. I'll drive you to Louise's."

She followed him down the stairs and back out the door to his car. She got in, sinking into the leather of his seats again. They drove the first few minutes in silence before she looked over to him. "Tristan," she started.

"This is awkward." He stated. "I know."

She nodded as he reached over her and into the glove compartment for his cigarettes. She jumped slightly when he grazed over her leg. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to do anything ungentlemanly this morning." He smirked over at her as he lit his cigarette.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Unless you want me to," he added. "I'm always up for doing unspeakable things to you."

Rory chuckled and shook her head. "Always the same Tristan," she mumbled and he shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette.

He pulled up to Louise's house and put the car in park, turning to face Rory. "I'll see you Monday," he said, leaning over to pull her closer to him. He pressed his lips against hers, kissing her hard. He let his tongue sweep into her mouth and kissed her lips one last time before pulling back. "Unless you decide you need to," he glanced over her once before smirking, "take your mind off of anything."

She rolled her eyes, still a little flushed from the kiss. "Bye, Tristan."

He smiled. "Bye, Mary."

She got out of the car and he watched her walk over to her jeep, making sure she got in and started it before he pulled away.

She sat in the driver's seat of the jeep, mulling over Tristan's attitude this morning. She sighed, maybe she was freaked out for nothing last night. Nothing had changed.

Tristan drove the road home slower than he normally would. Even if he didn't want to admit it, last night was so different than any other night with any other girl. Even than any other night with Rory. He took another drag of his cigarette. Something was changing, whether it was good or bad he wasn't sure. But it was definitely changing. Maybe it had to. Maybe he even wanted it to. He didn't know. But this was definitely the calm before the storm, that he was sure of.


	2. I Fell Into Pieces And She Fell Into Me

**Okay so this was reeaallly fast! I just got on a roll and wanted to get another chapter out! So I hope you love it! I'm pretty happy with this one!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls (obviously).**

**Chapter Two: I Fell Into Pieces. And She Fell Into Me.**

* * *

Monday morning. God he hated Mondays. Tristan groaned audibly, rolling himself lazily out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom. "Too fucking early," he mumbled to himself as he turned the water on to splash his face with cold water in an attempt to wake himself up. He let out a deep sigh and leaned against the bathroom sink, reaching one hand up to run it through the mess of hair on top of his head. He smirked at himself lightly in the mirror and shook his head. He would do nothing to his hair. He'd run his fingers through it and leave it the way it was. And it would still drive her insane.

Tristan sighed again. First thing Monday and already he was thinking about her. God he had a problem. He cleared his throat as if dismissing the thoughts from his head and reached for his toothbrush. He hadn't spoken to her since Friday night. This was definitely going to be a long day.

He replaced his toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink and made his way back into his bedroom, rummaging around for a clean uniform. Upon it's discovery, he pulled the shirt over his shoulders, straightening the collar and ducking his head into his tie. He let it hang loose around his neck and left the top button of his shirt undone. He tucked his shirt into his pants and pulled on his shoes, grabbing his blazer and throwing it casually over his shoulder before making his way to the door.

He took the stairs two at a time and grabbed his keys off of the table in the foyer and shoved them into his pockets, reaching for the front door.

"Tristan."

So damn close. He groaned to himself and let his eyes shut tight. He could really do without this today. He turned slowly, letting his eyes cloud over with nothingness and face the voice he wished he could erase. "I figured you'd have left by now," he commented and the older man just looked at him. He hated the way his father looked at him. Like everything that he said or did was a challenge.

"How have your grades been, son?"

He stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "Exceptional," he bit out through clenched teeth. "Would you expect anything less." It came out as more of a statement than a question and he forced a light smile.

"Your presence is expected tonight you understand?"

Tristan cleared his throat and let his hands clench into fists at his sides. "Yes, sir." His father nodded once at him and then waved his hand in a dismissal.

"You should go. Don't want to be late."

Tristan said nothing but simply turned around and let the heavy door slam closed behind him as he made his way quickly to his car. He wished that just one day he could get out of the house without having to talk with either of his parents. He started the car and pulled almost violently out of the drive, speeding in the direction of Chilton. Who would ever have thought that school would be a place he would want to go. He groaned and turned the music up, trying to drown out all his thoughts.

He pulled into the parking lot, stopping the car and shutting off the engine quickly. He grabbed his bag and his blazer from the passenger seat. He let out an exasperated sigh as he set his bag on the hood of the car and pulled his blazer on, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. He had time for just one, he thought, lighting it up. He leaned back against the hood of his car. He let the tobacco fill his lungs and breathed the smoke out slowly, enjoying the way it seemed to hit his chest with a stab of pressure. He let his eyes fall closed, enjoying the sensation.

"Contemplating suicide?"

He opened one eye to meet her gaze and he smirked. He held out the cigarette in question and she nodded once. He chuckled. "Everyday," he mumbled.

She frowned up at him. "It's a disgusting habit you know," she offered and he shrugged. "How was your weekend?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Typical."

She nodded her head slowly. He looked over at her curiously, taking another long drag. "People can see," he said.

She glared up at him and he knew with just one glance that he'd made her mad. He just shrugged his shoulders again and she shook her head at him angrily.

"You're incorrigible," she mumbled and he smirked again lightly. "That wasn't a compliment," she continued and he shrugged yet again. "Is that all you can do?"

He let his eyes burn into hers as he raised his shoulders slowly before lowering them again. She locked her jaw and folded her arms over her chest. "Whatever," she mumbled, taking a few steps away from him before looking over her shoulder, studying him for a moment. "Nice car," she commented and he looked up at her dangerously. "Daddy pick it out for you?"

Tristan glared at her in warning and she let a grin spread across her face. She knew it would piss him off. She knew his car was the only thing he owned that he'd actually paid for himself. A comment like that was meant to do nothing except offend him. She could see the anger in his eyes and he smirked widely.

"Nice skirt," he retorted. "Mommy hem that for you?" His eyes shone with a hatred that she knew was directed more at the rest of the world than at her. It always was.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah. I hear Collin likes 'em short." She knew that would drive him insane with jealousy. And with that she turned and made her way into the school building, swaying her hips a little more than normal just to frustrate him.

He thew his cigarette on the ground and turned to hit the side of the car with his palm. Why did he let her do that to him? It was so different than the other night. But then again, the other night was different than usual. This was normal. This was the way it usually was. He had to pretend he didn't give a shit about her. Because it was all he knew how to do. He didn't know how to be anything else.

This is what he did. When his father was a jackass, when he got tired of dealing with all the fake faces and the debutantes and the bullshit. He took his anger out on whatever was closest, whatever he could sink his frustration into. And she was always right there. And she always played back. It was the only way they really knew how to be. It was the only way that didn't scare the fucking hell out of him. With her it was always the same. She was his release, his escape, when he was having a shitty day, when his father pissed him off, when he felt lost or broken or alone he went to her. And she let him take out all of his frustration. And she did the exact same thing to him. It's the way they were. The way they'd always been. And he'd be damned if he knew how to fix it.

Rory slammed her locker shut, leaning against it and closing her eyes. "Rough morning?" Louise's voice floated into her ears and she opened her eyes to look at the other girl. She nodded. "What happened?"

Rory rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'll give you three guesses."

Louise nodded. "So apparently everything's back to normal," she said and Rory laughed.

"Yeah," she said. "Normal." Louise met her eyes and gave her a sympathetic sort of smile and Rory shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing's changed," she said, more to herself than Louise. But Louise didn't miss the hint of disappointment in her tone.

"Come on," she said, linking her arm with Rory's. "I'll walk to you to History."

Rory smiled letting the other girl pull her along and into the classroom. They took their usual seats and all eyes went to the door as Tristan sauntered in a mere two seconds before the bell rang.

"How nice of you to join us, Mr. Dugrey." Mr. Allen raised his eyebrows at Tristan and he smiled innocently.

"Great to be here, sir," he said, his voice laced with too much enthusiasm and Rory scoffed under her breath. He didn't miss it and glanced at her from the seat behind her. He leaned up and brought his mouth inches from her ear. "What's the matter, Mary?" He bit out the name like it burned him.

She shook her head lightly and glanced back at him quickly. "Don't start, Tristan," she said, using his tone as she spoke his name. That seemed to shut him up for the time being and he leaned back into his seat. He took the class time to study her.

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her bangs, new as of this weekend, were swept over to the side of her forehead. He licked his lips as he watched her. She tapped her pencil against the side of the desk and he glanced at it for a second before leaning forward again. "You cut your hair?" he asked, his tone emotionless and she nodded once, pulling at her bangs, as if she wasn't quite used to them yet. "I like it," he mumbled. His voice was low and she looked back at him for a second, as if to see what made him switch gears so fast.

He leaned back against his seat again and resumed watching her. She played with her hair a little self consciously now, he noted and he smiled in spite of himself. He moved his hand to rake it through his own hair as he heard the bell sound.

He looked up and around in surprise. He must have been watching her longer than he thought. He stood, taking his books and moving forward to grab the books off of her desk as well. He heard her let out a sigh but she stood to follow him. She knew exactly where he was going. Exactly what he wanted.

He made his way to a classroom, always empty on Mondays and Wednesdays. He opened the door and pulled it shut behind him with a click. He moved to the desk at the front of the room and pulled himself up to sit on it, waiting.

A few seconds later the door opened and followed him in, reaching behind her to twist the lock. "Give me my books back," she said, approaching him and he let a smirk slide across his lips. He shook his head. "Tristan just stop. I don't have the patience for this today."

He moved off the desk and took a step forward to pull her closer to him. "Good for you then," he mumbled. "I don't plan on keeping you long." She let out an exasperated sigh. Back to that. What was she thinking of course they were back to that.

He pulled her completely against him and let his lips fall to her neck and as always, she lost all conscious thought. His tongue darting out to trace the skin there. He moved up to her jaw line and kissed all the way up to her earlobe before taking it in his mouth. He picked her up, turning them around and sitting her on the desk. He lifted his hands to press against her breasts and she let out a low moan, reaching around to pull him closer. He pressed himself against her, hard.

He reached back to his pocket for his wallet, tossing it on the desk beside her and she reached for it, pulling out a condom as he pulled her panties down to her knees and then reached for his own pants, pulling them down just low enough and she rolled the condom onto him.

He let out a low growl at her touch and wasted no time burying himself inside of her. She let her hands move around his neck and up into his hair, pulling him closer to her. "Tristan." His name came out as a breathy moan and he let his forehead drop against her shoulder, quickening his pace. He lifted her slightly and that seemed to send them both completely over the edge. He held her there for a few seconds as they both came down. He let her slide down to her feet and she moved out from underneath of his arms. He let himself fall against the desk, catching his breath.

"I need my books."

He heard her voice but didn't register what she was saying as he pulled his pants back up and straightened his shirt.

"Tristan," she tried again and he looked over at her. His face was cold, emotionless. So different from the way he'd looked at her a few nights ago. She took a breath of surprise and he sighed, pushing her books across the desk towards her. She reached out to pick them up, her eyes never leaving him.

"Your dad?" She asked, knowing that this need for a release of frustration had to have come from somewhere.

He let out a dark chuckle and shook his head. "Everything," he muttered and she looked at him, unmoving. "I thought you didn't have time for this," he said, averting his eyes as if her gaze made him uncomfortable.

She opened her mouth to say something before deciding against it and closing her mouth again. She just stood there, watching him. He turned to meet her eyes reluctantly after a few seconds and raised an eyebrow. "Tristan."

"What do you want me to say, Rory?" He gestured out with his hands. When she said nothing he groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Let's not do this, yeah?"

She bit her bottom lip. "You'll be okay," she offered and he gave her a condescending shake of his head before plastering on his society smile.

"Always am," he said. His voice held no emotion and she looked at him for a few seconds as she watched the emotion in his eyes turn from nothingness to hurt. She nodded slowly at him, letting out a breathy, disbelieving chuckle before turning quickly and leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

The click of the door filled the silent room as Tristan put his face in his hands. He hated this. He hated the way that this was. That he couldn't make himself really open up. Why couldn't he just have stopped her. Why couldn't he just reach out and make her listen. Tell her that he needed her, that she was the only one that really killed the pain for him.

He let his tongue run over his lips. He needed a cigarette. He needed her to be back here pressed against him. He needed to forget everything. And she did that for him. Only her. And the second she walked away, every damn time, he felt everything come rushing back. She was the only thing he could find that made it better. If only just for a while. She made him forget everything, made him feel like he was in control of things, of his life. She made him feel wanted and alive. He needed her. And he wished more than anything that he didn't.

--

Rory made her way into the cafeteria and moved to sit with Madeline and Louise. She looked around curiously before turning to the other girls. "Paris?"

Madeline rolled her eyes. "Arguing about a test grade."

"Again," Louise added and Rory smiled.

"Typical Paris."

Louise nodded her agreement and reached her hand out to take a piece of the cookie in front of Rory, who merely rolled her eyes at Louise's smile. "You weren't going to eat it anyway," she said. "I have a feeling it's one of your 'I'm hungry but I'm going to say I'm not because I'm upset' kind of days."

Rory smiled despite herself. Louise was right. It was one of those days where she really just wanted to go home and curl up on the couch with her mom and a couple good movies. But she reached down and took a bite of her food, giving Louise an exaggerated look.

Madeline laughed from beside her and slid a piece of paper across the table to Rory, who looked up questioningly. "The biology notes you missed out on second period."

Rory nodded silently. "Thanks," she said. "I was in the library," she explained and Louise rolled her eyes.

"You're such a horrible liar, Gilmore." Rory simply shrugged her shoulders. No point in denying it. "You were with Tristan?" Louise asked, although it was more like a statement than a question, considering. "You were," she answered herself and Rory shrugged again. "Fight with his parents?"

Rory sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she mumbled honestly and Louise nodded, dropping it. They sat in silence for a few seconds before Madeline spoke up.

"Can I borrow your history notes from this morning?" She asked, looking to Louise who raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"What were you doing?" Paris's voice came from behind Rory and they turned to look at her as she slid in next to them.

Madeline smiled. "Collin Taylor."

Rory laughed and put her fork down on her plate, glancing over at Paris. "Where were you?"

Paris rolled her eyes. "Mrs. Landers thought that she could get away with not giving me the extra credit I deserved on the last calculus exam."

The other three girls laughed. Rory's attention went to the cafeteria doors as Tristan walked in slowly. He had his patented smirk on his face, his eyes glittering with mischief. If she was anyone else she would've assumed he was having a pretty good day. But she knew better than anyone how good he was at hiding it.

He sauntered over to a table full of guys and Rory let her eyes follow his movements. Groaning in frustration she realized that even the way he walked was sexy. She let her head fall onto her arms on the table as the other girls looked over at Tristan.

"God, he's gorgeous," Louise mumbled and Rory looked up at her. "Well he is."

She sighed her agreement. There was no way around it. He was gorgeous. He was dead sexy. He could talk better than anyone she'd ever met. And the things he could say to her to make her completely fall apart. She let out an involuntary shiver as Paris nudged her in the ribs.

"Rory."

She looked up in question. "What?"

"I've been saying your name for like the past twenty seconds. What are you so spacey about today?"

Louise laughed. "Yeah, I wonder," she mumbled, winking at Rory who threw her a threatening glare.

"I'm just," she paused. "Distracted." She finished with an almost amused tone and Paris shook her head in confusion.

"Whatever. I'm going to class," she said standing and leaving the others at the table.

–

Rory walked out of the front doors of Chilton. Her Franklin meeting had run way later than she'd expected and she knew she'd be stuck waiting for the bus for a good forty minutes. She made her way begrudgingly to the bus stop bench and sat down dramatically, leaning her head back and covering her face with her hands.

"You want a ride?"

She let her hands drop and she looked in the direction of the all too familiar voice. "Why?"

He let out an impatient sigh. "So you don't have to wait for the bus," he stated obviously. She watched him and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Well do you want a ride or not?"

"I'm out of your way," she muttered and he rolled his eyes, not saying anything back to her. She just watched him for a while as he looked up at her again, waiting. "You really want to drive me all the way back to Stars Hollow?" she asked, confused.

He let his shoulders rise and fall slowly. "I," he paused, changing his mind.

"You?" She asked, waiting for him to continue and he ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. "What?"

He reached over and opened the passenger door, pushing it open wide enough for her to get it. "I don't want to go home just yet."

She met his eyes, startled with his honesty and stood slowly, lowering herself into his car. He nodded slowly and put the car in gear as she pulled the door shut. He took off, driving the speed limit, which surprised her.

"Can I ask you something?"

He raised an eyebrow and lit a cigarette, rolling his window down a bit so the smoke could filter out of it. He shrugged. "You just did."

She shook her head and sighed, turning away from him to look out the window. He licked his lips slowly before bringing the cigarette back up and taking a drag. "Go ahead," he said, blowing the smoke out when he'd finished.

She looked over at him for a few seconds. "Why do we do this?"

He glanced over at her quickly, surprised that she'd bring it up. "Do what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He nodded, more to himself than to her she guessed and he took another drag. "I don't know," he said and the honesty in his voice shocked her.

She sat there for a few seconds without speaking or even looking at him. He looked over at her after a few uncomfortable moments and she knew he was unnerved by her silence. "Why me?"

He didn't look at her this time. He sat with one hand gripping the steering wheel tighter and his other putting the tip of his cigarette out the window to let the wind blow the ash off of the top. "It's," he paused as if searching for the words. "Complicated, I guess," he finally settled on and she nodded slowly.

"Why are you doing this, Tristan?"

He took another drag of his cigarette and said nothing. She looked over at him, realizing he had no intention of answering her question. "Hey," she said and he looked to her quickly but then averted his gaze and focused back on the road again.

They sat in silence again and she assumed his answer wasn't going to come. She looked back out the window after a few minutes, giving up on him.

"Because I don't know how else to be," he said.

She looked over surprised, studying his face as if she wasn't quite sure that she'd even hear him. He didn't look at her, obviously still uncomfortable with the whole situation. "I don't understand," she started and he scoffed.

"Yes you do," he said, not giving her time to respond before he continued. "You do understand. You understand perfectly because you do exactly the same thing to me, Rory." He let out a dark, almost dangerous laugh. "We do this over and over again. I come to you when I feel like shit and you do the same thing to me." He shook his head. "Don't tell me you don't understand."

She took a breath and bit her bottom lip, reaching up to pull at her bangs. "Okay," she said finally. "You're right. I get it. But why? Why me?"

He shrugged his shoulders and looked over at her, desperation evident in his eyes. "Because," he said. "Because you make it disappear."

She looked up quickly and he looked away again, never comfortable with the admittance of anything of too much emotion. "What?"

He let out a low, frustrated groan. "All of it!" He practically yelled it at her. "When I'm with you I forget for a little while that my life is shit. I can let everything just slip away and I can focus on you. I feel like everything really can be okay for just a little while."

She looked over at him. She knew it was the truth. That's what he did for her too. Not that her life was anything to complain about. But when she had a bad day, when she was stressed about finals or when her mom dated Max, when she thought her grandparents would drive her completely and totally mad, she called him. And he made everything feel like it wasn't so horrible. Her problems couldn't possibly be so bad if he could make her feel the way that he did. So perfect, so unattainable. But that didn't make it right. That didn't justify anything that they were doing and they both knew that.

He pulled into her driveway and she turned slightly to face him. "Okay," she said. "Great. That's really great Tristan."

He looked over at her, her reaction getting on his nerves. He told her the truth. He was more honest with her in the few seconds that he'd just spoken than he'd probably ever been. "What? What the hell is your problem now?" He asked, hitting his hands against the steering wheel.

"Nothing!" She yelled back at him. "Nothing! I'm not allowed to have problems remember? That's your job. You're the one with all the problems and the horror and the terrible life with your rich parents that buy you whatever you want and let you do whatever the hell you want!"

"Shut up," he said. His voice was a low warning that she completely ignored.

"Why? It's the truth isn't it?"

He laughed darkly. "You're right. You're so right, Rory. My life is fucking perfect! I have no reason to complain. I live in a fucking story book town and have a mother that loves me more than life itself." She glared at him, shaking her head. "I have perfect grades and the perfect innocent face and the perfect angelic, innocent reputation." He stopped and looked at her for a few long seconds. "Oh wait," he said. "That's not me at all."

"I hate you," she said and he nodded.

"That's great, Rory. That's really fucking great. You hate me." He shook his head and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. She got out after him, slamming her own door.

"What the hell is your problem?" She hollered at him and he whipped around to face her.

"My problem?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "You want to know what my problem is? You. You're my problem."

"Me," she repeated and he stared at her. "So I'm your problem. I'm what's wrong with your life?"

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and looked over at her desperately. "I'm my problem," he said. His voice was calmer now. "My father is my problem. My life is my fucking problem."

She watched him hesitantly, wondering if she said the wrong thing if he would snap again. But she wasn't finished being mad at him. She wasn't finished telling him exactly what she thought. "So what does that make me?" She asked, throwing her arms up. He said nothing, simply watched her, waiting for her to say something else. She shook her head at him. "You have all these problems and anger and frustration and you just fuck me to make yourself feel better right? That's what I'm here for? That's what I am for you?"

He let out a cry of frustration and hit his open hand hard against the side of his car. "What do you want me to say, Rory?" He asked desperately. "What am _I_?" When she didn't say anything he nodded. "I'm the exact same thing for you. That's why you call me. You fuck me to make yourself feel better," he said, spitting her words back at her and she let out a deep breath.

She took a breath and leaned back against his car. "You're right," she muttered. "I'm not any better at this than you are."

He nodded, pacing around her lawn. She was surprised that the neighbors hadn't heard their yelling yet. Or if they had that they hadn't come out to see what was happening. "Mary," he tried, moving a little closer to her.

She looked up at him and shook her head. "Don't, Tristan. Don't make this something that it's not."

He shook his head, anger welling up inside of him again. "You unbelievable you know that?" He ran his fingers through his hair and let his palm rest against the back of his head. "What do you want from me?"

She pushed herself off his car and shook her head violently. "I don't know!" She hollered. "I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know what the hell I want, Tristan."

He shook his head and moved to pace again. "I hate this, Rory." He said. His voice was miserable and sad. He sounded so defeated and as much as she hated the things he was saying and the fight they were having, her heart broke for him.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she said, putting her face into her hands. "What happened? What changed? What made this go from something that had unspoken rules and no strings to this?" She gestured around them. "What happened to us?"

He shrugged. "I wish I knew," he mumbled in honesty. "I don't know what happened. I don't what the hell changed. I wish I knew. I wish I could stop it and just leave it simple and uncomplicated."

She shook her head. "That's what you want?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "Because if you want simple and uncomplicated then fine. Let me uncomplicate things for you."

He groaned again. "That's not what I mean and you know it. Stop doing that. Stop twisting my words around to make me the fucking bad guy here."

She threw her hands up in defeat. "We're getting nowhere, Tristan. We're fighting about nothing anymore and I don't want to do this right now."

He laughed. "That's right because you just don't have time to deal with this right now, right?" He asked, repeating her words from earlier.

"Stop it," she said. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know how to fix this any more than you do! I don't know what I'm doing. I barely even know why the hell we're fighting anymore."

He shook his head at her and checked his watch. "Damnit." He let out a deep sigh and looked up at her. "I have to go," he said, raising his hands in defeat.

She nodded. "You always do," she said. And it was true. He was always the one that had to go. He had to get away, he had to get home, he had to get out, get in, get through. He was always moving and she felt like she was always left to chase after him, to follow the ends of a fraying rope, not ever being able to fully grasp onto him.

He watched her for a moment before moving over to her. He reached an arm out to her and despite herself she let him pull her closer to him and press his mouth against hers. His kiss was needy and desperate. No matter how mad she was at him and how much she wanted him to just disappear, she knew that she could never survive that. She needed him here and she hated it. He kissed her deeper and harder and she melted into his touch. "Tristan," she said when she could finally catch her breath and he sighed loudly.

"Right," he said. He looked back at her as he opened his car door and she shrugged at him in desperation and confusion.

He shook his head and pulled himself back into his car, shutting his door and starting the engine. They'd fixed nothing. They'd sorted through nothing. They had a screaming match that could be given some kind of a prize, but they'd fixed absolutely nothing. And if he was honest, he wasn't even really sure what their problem was.

He pulled out of the driveway and Rory watched him go, wishing that he would pull back up the driveway and come right back up to her and kiss her like he had all over again. She didn't know why they'd fought or what to do about it. Nothing made sense anymore. The way she felt about him, the way she needed him. God, she didn't even know how she felt about him. He was one thing to her for so long and now something was changing all of the rules and she hated it.

She took a breath and picked her bag up off the ground, making her way inside the house. She moved into her bedroom and changed her clothes, hearing the door open and close as she moved out into the kitchen.

"Rory?"

"Kitchen," she responded as Lorelai came around the corner, setting her things down in a scattered manner.

"Hey you," she said, kicking her heels off. "How was your day?"

"Crap," she said, sitting herself down at the kitchen table.

Lorelai followed suit, sitting down across from her. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Nothing," she said. "I don't know."

"Tristan," Lorelai said and Rory looked up and away guiltily. "Rory," she said and Rory sighed.

"We had a huge fight," she said. And Lorelai raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't that kind of normal, babe? I mean you're either fighting or you're..." she trailed off shaking her head at the thought and sighing.

Rory bit her bottom lip. "It was a different kind of a fight."

"About what?" Lorelai asked and Rory let her head drop onto the table. "Rory, come on," she said. "What's going on with you guys?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know anymore. In the beginning it was all so easy. He would tease me and I would give it back to him and then that night freshman year," she paused and looked up at Lorelai who nodded. Rory sighed. "He called me and he just sounded so sad and I didn't even know what I was doing and I just asked him if he needed me."

Lorelai watched her tell the story. She'd heard it on multiple occasions and wasn't exactly fond of where it led, but she would listen to her daughter tell it. Because she knew it made her feel better.

"And then when I went to him he just looked so broken."

"And you wanted to fix him," Lorelai offered and Rory nodded.

"And for a while I seemed to," she said. "And then it just got so out of control and now I," she paused and looked up at her mother. "I don't know what I'd do without him. Is that crazy?"

Lorelai shook her head lightly. "It isn't crazy, sweetie. It's normal, to want to fix someone that's broken. You want to make him alright again. You want him to be the smiling, joking boy you used to crush out on."

Rory nodded slowly. "He hasn't been that boy in such a long time."

Lorelai nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "But you haven't been the same girl either. You both changed. I'm not saying that the way you changed was for the worse, in your case anyway. But you changed and you started needing someone to be able to rely on that could just make you feel like you used to."

"What changed?" Rory asked. Her voice was sad and soft. Lorelai reached out and covered her daughter's hand with her own.

"Life just happened, babe. You just had to grow up a little bit. You got more responsibility and in Tristan's case more pressure." She shrugged. "He just had to grow up too fast, Ror. And you needed him around. So you just," she paused. "I hate to say it, honey but you just became what you thought you needed to be for each other."

Rory sighed. "And now?"

Lorelai smiled at her sympathetically. "Now," she leaned over to kiss Rory's forehead. "Now you just have to find your way again."

"Do you ever stop having to find your way?"

Lorelai shook her head. "Sorry, babe. You'll always have to adjust. Life's cruel like that. It loves change. And we, as human beings, just want everything to stay the same."

Rory buried her face in her hands and Lorelai stroked her hair. "It'll be okay. You'll work it out."

Rory groaned. "I don't know, mom. It's been this way for so long."

Lorelai smiled. "Rory he may tease you relentlessly," she said and Rory smiled a little. "And he might have lost his way, and pushed everyone back a little in the process, including you," she said. "But that boy really loves you. And sooner or later he'll figure it out. And he'll make it all up to you," She smiled and patted her daughter's hand. "And you'll do the same thing. I promise."

She stood up, moving away from Rory and kissing the top of her head. "Luke's or pizza?" she asked and Rory looked up at smiled gratefully, glad to be finished talking for the time being.

"Pizza and a movie?" She asked and Lorelai nodded.

"Okay."

They made their way into the living room and Rory curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over her. She was ready to leave the day behind her. She just wanted to be six years old for a while and let her mom fix her problems again. She sighed and curled herself deeper into the couch. She'd deal with reality tomorrow.


	3. When The Dance Is Through

_-It's been waaayyy too long. I know. Also just for those of you reading Drowning. Another chapter IS in the works I promise! This chapter turned out to be a million different things I didn't expect it to be. But I like it. I hope you guys do too. Anyhow...on with it!-_

_Chapter Three: When The Dance Is Through It's Me And You_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls (obviously.)_

* * *

Tristan stood in front of his bedroom mirror, pulling at the tie around his neck. He groaned in frustration under his breath and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his desk chair, pulling it over his shoulders and straightening the collar. He hated these parties. He hated these miserable, desperate, attention starved elitist morons. Every single person down those stairs would be discussing money, or power, or labels, or all of the above.

He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt, black tie. Only the best of everything. Tailor made to fit him perfectly. He sighed. Just once in his life he wanted to get ready for a Saturday night putting on jeans that hung too low for his mothers liking and a shirt that didn't require a tie. He reached up to adjust the one around his neck. He fucking hated wearing a tie.

"Tristan." He turned at the sound of his name and turned back just as quickly at the realization of who it was.

"Mother." He practically spit the word from his mouth. She didn't seem to take notice of his tone and took a step into his room.

"We have guests waiting."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow. "No," he corrected. "You have guests waiting."

She crossed the room towards him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him around to face her. "Fix this tie," she said, reaching up and pulling it tight against his neck. She took a step back, nodding to herself. "Much better." Tristan shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away from her. "Now hurry up and get downstairs. You have people to greet, young man."

He stood in silence, waiting for what he knew she would say next. He watched as it crossed her mind and he could almost see the thought move itself through from her brain to her pursed, over colored lips. "We can't have you disappointing your father." There it was. He couldn't help the smirk that made it's way to his face. He turned away from his mother and ran his fingers through his hair again.

She grabbed his arm once more, turning him around to face her. "Tristan Janlan Dugrey, so help me God you will put on your best smile and you will be polite to every single person that steps through that door." She locked her eyes on his and he held her gaze. When he gave no sign of confirmation she reached up and grabbed him by the tie, pulling him down so they were at eye level. "You listen to me, Tristan. This is a very important evening for your father and you will not do anything to compromise that. Do you understand me?"

Tristan pulled himself away from her grasp. "Yes." He spoke through gritted teeth. "I un-der-stand you." He spoke each syllable slowly, biting it out. "But keep in mind that after what he pulled at that _business_ dinner on Monday night, I plan on doing nothing more than staying as far away from him as I possibly can."

His mother reached up and pushed his tie back into place against neck before stepping back from her son. "Be on your best behavior, Tristan."

He turned away from her and she left his room without another word. He faced himself in the mirror again and loosened his tie. He took a few deep breaths to prepare himself for a night of misery before making his way out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

He moved gracefully through the crowd. He greeted the faces he could remember and gave a pleasant nod to the ones he couldn't. He never wavered, never faltered, keeping up his smile, shaking the hands of any secretary fucking businessmen he ran into. He was en route to the bar. The greetings on the way were merely mild annoyances in comparison to the hell he would walk through if his father happened to find him.

"Ah, Tristan." He turned at the familiar voice, a smile coming to his face. The first one all night that he really meant. He reached out and shook the older man's hand.

"Hey, Gramps," he greeted, his smile turning into a grin. Janlan pulled his grandson into a brief hug. "How have you been?"

Janlan gave a wink and patted Tristan's shoulder. "I get by," he said. "What about you, young man?"

Tristan's face fell slightly and he shrugged. "Fine," he said.

Janlan raised an eyebrow. "After this long in society I would have expected you to be a better actor, my boy."

Tristan laughed lightly but said nothing. The two men stood in silence for a few moments, watching the people in the crowd interact. Money. Power. Labels. It never changed. Someone always made more money. Someone always got that big promotion. Someone's wife always got a new something or other that worked so much better and cost so much more than someone else's. Tristan sighed and Janlan glanced over at him. "Rough week, son?" he asked.

Tristan gave a half smirk, but nodded, letting his hands find his pockets. "You could say that."

Janlan reached out to put a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "I heard about Monday evening."

"The great William told you all about how his mistake of a son screwed up a meeting with Princeton?" Tristan didn't look over. He kept his eyes trained on the crowd. Watching everything. Absorbing nothing. Hate coursing through his veins.

"He did," Janlan confirmed. "I have to say you must have put on quite a show, Tristan."

He shrugged heavily. "It's not what I want, Gramps." He ran his fingers through his hair and then balled them into a fist, desperately pushing away the urge to punch something. Anything. "I don't want to go to Princeton. I never have."

Janlan nodded, his face grim and thoughtful. The way it always was when he was about to tell Tristan something he didn't want to hear. "Sometimes it isn't about what we want, son. Sometimes it's about what keeps the status quot."

Tristan shook his head. "No." His voice was firm, angry, betrayed. "I won't do it, Gramps. I won't go to Princeton for him." He let a deep sigh fall from his lips and he shrugged his shoulders desperately. His voice came out small and quiet when he spoke again. "I can't."

Janlan sighed. "I know you have your own dreams, Tristan. And it would be a waste for such a bright young man like yourself to give them up just to please anyone." He paused and looked over to his grandson. "But you know his threat as well as I do. And you know it isn't an empty one."

Tristan nodded. "I know."

Janlan reached over and patted him on the back. "Just think about that," he said. "I've got to make the rounds." He nodded and watched his grandfather continue with his circuit around the room. Tristan turned, once again working through the crowd to the bar.

After shaking the hands of four or five affair wielding businessmen he reached his destination. He leaned up against the bar, reaching behind it and pulling out a bottle of scotch and a glass. He winked at the bartender, who shook his head but allowed Tristan to do what he pleased. They always did. It was his father's alcohol after all.

He poured himself a drink and leaned back against the bar, downing it in two swallows before pouring himself another. He set the glass down and removed his jacket, draping it over the stool next to him. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button up and reached up to loosen the tie that his mother had been so god damn precise about. He picked the glass up again and took a drink. It burned down his throat. He took another drink, finishing it off and reaching around to pour himself another.

"Your mother's looking for you." Tristan finished pouring and glanced over, watching as she leaned herself next to him and nodded at his drink. It was definitely not his first and that worried her a bit. She knew that if he hadn't already, he would be drinking until he was numb. And that was never a good thing. Especially for Tristan. And especially here. "I don't know if I would be holding that when she finds you," she added and he shrugged, finishing off the glass.

He set it down on the bar and let his eyes drink in her appearance. He hid his surprise at her association with him in front of so many people. He studied the way her hair was swept up into a graceful pin at the back of her head. Her dress was black and hit her at the knees. Loose enough to be classy. Tight enough to be mind blowingly sexy. He averted his gaze before she caught his stare and shrugged. "She doesn't actually care where I am," he said and Rory looked up and met his eyes. "Just putting on a show." His voice was bitter and rough. He reached back to pour himself another glass. This one he downed in one long pull before slamming his glass against the bar.

Rory watched his movements. His actions were firm, unfeeling, and as bitter as his voice had been. She wasn't sure how many glasses of scotch he'd had but with a look at the bottle she guessed it had probably been full when he'd started. "Tristan." She said his name like a warning. "Don't." He looked down at her and cocked an eyebrow. She shook her head. "I know you better than anyone, Tris. And I know what you're thinking." He looked up and away from her. "Don't do anything stupid."

He reached for the scotch again. He always drank scotch when things were bad. She sighed. Things must have been worse than she thought. "I didn't expect you to be here, tonight." He paused to let her speak. When she said nothing he continued. "You came with your grandparents?"

She nodded. "And Mom too. You know Richard and Emily. Can't pass up a chance to show off their miraculous heirs." She smiled and leaned over to nudge him in the ribs. He looked down at her and nodded.

They stood in silence for a few moments before she spoke. "I can't get you to smile can I?" her voice was small and sad. "I remember when I couldn't get you to stop."

Tristan looked over at her. He shrugged slowly before taking another drink. She watched the glass meet his lips and the liquid run into them slowly. He pulled the glass away from his mouth and noticed her gaze. "That was a long time ago," he said, voice laced with finality. He tipped the glass towards her in offering. She shook her head, making a face. "Not much for scotch?"

She shook her head again. "Not at all." She watched as he down yet another glass in two gulps. "Tristan," she said and he looked over to her again. "Maybe you should slow down on the alcohol." He looked over to her and smiled lightly. He was already past drunk, she could see it in his eyes.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. "If I have to be here," he said winking at her. "I'm at least going to get trashed while I have the opportunity." He sighed. "Makes these affair wielding businessmen a little more bearable." He took another drink. "Besides, a few more of these and I won't even remember this in the morning."

She reached up and pulled at his tie, loosening it further. That got his attention and he put the glass down and turned towards her, placing his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the bar. "You want to see a show, Mary?" He whispered, his voice dangerous. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his breath tickling her skin, making her crazy. "This party needs a little something. Don't you think?" He winked at her again, pushing off the bar. She took a deep breath.

"Tristan." She reached out for his arm and he turned his head. "Please don't do anything stupid."

He smirked. "No promises." He turned back towards the crowd and made his way, unsteadily now, towards a large group of people. His father, she realized, was in the middle.

Rory looked around the room, desperate to meet the eyes of her mother. Finally she landed on them and Lorelai looked up, feeling eyes on her. She noted the look on Rory's face and made her way quickly over towards her daughter.

"What's up babe?"

Rory nodded towards a drunken Tristan, approaching his father. "He's going to do something really stupid."

Lorelai nodded, watching him. "Did something happen?"

Rory sighed and pushed her hair away from her eyes. "He's drinking scotch, so that means it's bad. And he's approaching his father in the middle of a very large party full of very prestigious elitists. So that means his parents have everything to do with it." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "He's going to regret this in the morning."

"I doubt he even remembers it in the morning, sweetie." Lorelai watched Tristan come up on his father.

"He's such an idiot," she mumbled, pushing herself off the bar and turning to her mother. "I have to stop him."

Lorelai said nothing but nodded her understanding and watched as her daughter took the same path through the crowd, following quickly after Tristan.

Rory reached Tristan just as he was tapping his father on the shoulder. William turned around and Rory put a hand on Tristan's arm. He glanced over at her but shook her off.

"Tristan." William's voice was icy and unwelcoming as he turned away from his group and towards his son. Tristan let a grin spread across his face as his father greeted him.

"Hey, dad." His voice was high and pleasant. Dangerously so. Rory reached towards him again. This time he didn't pull away but let his hand slide into hers, as if he had been waiting for her hand. As if he needed the comfort of someone on his side.

"I'm in the middle of something Tristan." William let out an annoyed sigh and crossed his arms across his chest.

Tristan chuckled. "Well this won't take long," he slurred. "I just wanted to make sure that all your secretary fucking friends know what a disappointment your son is." He smiled, putting an arm on his father's shoulder. William pulled it away, gripping Tristan's arm in a warning. People were turning. Including the men he'd been standing with, who no doubt had heard exactly what he'd called them.

"Tristan you will not do this here."

Tristan laughed. "Do what? What am I doing?" His voice dropped it's pleasant act and he took a step closer to his father. "Afraid that all these power hungry elitist bastards will find out what a fuck up your son is?"

His voice was growing louder and William was past furious. Rory pulled at his arm desperately to get him to turn around. He pulled his arm away from her completely and took another step towards his father. Rory knew that if she didn't do something he would hit him. And then complete and total hell would break loose. Not that William didn't deserve it. But she couldn't let Tristan do that to himself. She pushed herself in between the two men, facing Tristan and bringing her hands up to his chest to push him back.

"So help me God, Tristan you will lower your voice." William was dangerously close to a threat. Any threat. She could hear it in his voice.

"Or what," Tristan spat.

"Tristan, please," Rory begged, pushing at him to walk away. "Please just walk away." He looked down at her then and smiled lightly as if he was just realizing that she was there. "Please, Tristan," she whispered.

"I think you'd better listen to your girl, Tristan." William's eyes were so angry they could've been on fire.

By now more people were turning to witness the commotion. They wouldn't let this go any time soon. Not a fight this public. And in his drunken stupor, that was exactly what Tristan wanted. "Rory stay out of this," Tristan warned, removing his hands from him.

"No," she said, her voice firm enough to make him look at her. "Tristan come with me, please. Don't do this here. You don't want this."

He let out a dark laugh, his eyes going back to his father. "The hell I don't."

"Rory." Lorelai's voice broke into whatever William was about to say. Rory turned to see her mother, her eyes pleading for help. Lorelai came closer, standing behind Rory, facing Tristan.

"Tristan come on, let's go." He looked over at Lorelai and let out a defeated breath but shook his head. She reached up and pulled him down by his tie.

"What is everyone's fucking fascination with this damn thing tonight?" He mumbled, his words slurring.

"Tristan, honey. Walk away. Please don't do this now." Lorelai pushed him back and he took a few steps away from his father. "Ror, sweetie get him out of here."

Rory nodded, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him through the crowd, into the kitchen and toward the back stairs. "Let's get you upstairs, okay?"

He let his eyes pull shut and his brows furrow. He nodded slowly, pushing Rory against the kitchen wall. "Upstairs," he mumbled, pushing his body as close to hers as he could.

"Tristan," she breathed. But she couldn't get out another word before he pushed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard. His kisses were fast and needy. He was pushing for something that he couldn't quite seem to reach, leaving her breathless and wanting.

She pushed him away from her slowly and let out a shaky breath, trying to clear her head. "Tristan," she mumbled. "We need to get you upstairs."

He nodded slowly, his head falling against her shoulder. "I need you," he whispered and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"I'm right here." She pulled at his hand, leading him up the stairs and towards his bedroom. She pushed open the door and led him inside, pulling it closed behind them. He stumbled over to the bed and sat, pulling her to stand in between his legs.

"I need you," he mumbled again and she let her hands come up and run through his hair.

"I'm here," she whispered back and he pulled her closer against him. She let her forehead drop to rest against his and he shut his eyes tight. "I'm right here."

"I just want him to love me." Tristan's voice was soft and filled with misery. Rory pulled her forehead from him and put her hands on either side of his face.

"Oh, Tristan," she whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead.

"He thinks I'm a mistake. Why doesn't he love me?" He murmured, falling back onto the bed and sliding his hands underneath his pillow.

Rory sat next to him on the bed, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "They don't deserve you, Tristan." She let out a deep sigh and let her fingers lace into his sandy hair. "You're amazing. Don't let them take that away."

He reached a hand up and gripped the one she was running through his hair. Tristan opened his eyes and looked up to meet hers, moving his hand up and to the back of her head, pulling her towards him until his lips were able to meet hers. She kissed him back slow and soft, letting him kiss her the way that he needed, the way that she knew would make him forget. Make everything okay again. Even just for a little while.

She pulled back slowly and he let his head fall back into the pillows again, his eyes closing and his tongue coming out to run over his lips. "You're the only one who wants me."

Rory went back to running her fingers through his hair. "Tristan, no. That isn't true." She let out a deep sigh. "I had no idea it was this bad," she mumbled, more to herself than to him and he gave no sign that he even heard her. "Tris, why didn't you call me? I would've been here."

Tristan cleared his throat but his eyes remained closed. "Bad week, baby." He groaned and rolled over. She let her eyes rake over him. One of the few times he became vulnerable was when he was drunk like this. But she'd never seen it this bad. He always kept it together in public. She'd never actually witnessed him pick a fight with his father like this. She sighed, moving off the bed. He was practically asleep now. She moved and pulled off his shoes and pants, then awkwardly sat him up enough to pull off his button down shirt and tie, leaving him in his boxers. She pulled the covers over him and pressed her lips to his temple.

"It's okay, Tristan," she whispered. "It's all going to be okay." She moved to the door, looking back at him shortly before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. She went back down the stairs and met up with her mother.

"How is he?" Lorelai asked and Rory shrugged her shoulders.

"He's miserable," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "He's so upset and defeated." She shook her head. "God, I could kill him."

Lorelai frowned in confusion. "Tristan?"

Rory shook her head. "William," she clarified in disgust and Lorelai nodded. "He told Tristan he was a mistake."

Lorelai's eyebrows shot up in horrified surprise. "He didn't," she said, her voice laced with anger.

"Yeah." Rory sat down on the steps and Lorelai followed suit, putting an arm around her daughter. "He did." She shook her head and put her face in her hands. "How do I fix this?" she asked, her voice desperate. "How do I save him from this?" She sighed and ran her fingers up into her hair. "He's so broken."

Lorelai reached over, pulling her daughter into an embrace. "Just be there for him, sweetie," she said, sighing shortly. "That's all you can do."

–

Tristan woke up with what felt like an elephant stepping on his skull. He opened one eye just to make sure there was nothing there and he groaned at the realization that he must have gotten absolutely trashed the night before. He let a hand go up to his head, as if it could take the headache away. He let out a sigh and sat himself up slowly, knowing if he didn't get to the bathroom for some asprin it wouldn't be getting any better.

"Fuck," he muttered as he brought himself to his feet. It felt like his brain was sloshing around inside his head and he closed his eyes, wanting to enjoy the darkness of his room before he had to turn on the bathroom light.

He stumbled miserably across the room and flicked on the light switch in his bathroom, keeping his eyes closed as the light hit his eyelids. He opened them slowly and groaned at the discomfort, stepping in and looking up to see how horrible he looked. But his eyes were met with a piece of notebook paper and a familiar scrawl. He pulled the paper down, setting it beside the sink and dropping his head to read.

_Tristan-_

_Take some asprin. Get a shower. Avoid your parents at all costs. And then call me. _

_Rory _

He frowned in confusion, raking over his memory, trying to recall the night before. He vaguely remembered drinking about ten glasses of scotch. He frowned at himself in the mirror, his hand going up to rub the back of his neck. He paused, mid motion, and sighed. He closed his eyes, his face contorting at his inner pain. Now he remembered. That damn tie. Everyone was so concerned with his fucking tie.

He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and groaned. He remembered everything up to the scotch incredibly well. After that it got a bit fuzzy. He shut his eyes tight and forced himself to think. Scotch. "Rory," he mumbled. Rory leaning up against the bar. More scotch. "Damnit," he whispered in realization. His father. He tried to single out his father in public. In front of his colleagues. Shit. He took a deep breath and shook his head at himself in the bathroom mirror.

He reached around himself to turn the water for the shower on, pulling off the boxers he'd been left in and stepping under the warmth of the spray. He let the water glide over his body, washing away the smell of alcohol and the lightening the pressure on his head. He ran his hands over his hair under the water. God, what was he thinking? He could have single handedly started world war three last night. Fuck, he probably did.

Tristan stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, shaking the water from his hair before remembering that he still had a substantial headache. He moaned lightly in pain and reached for the asprin bottle in the mirror cabinet. He shook a few out of the bottle and into his hand, filling a paper cup with water with his other hand and downing the pills quickly.

He walked back into his bedroom, a towel around his waist. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He towel tried his hair and ran his fingers through it, not bothering with a brush. He grabbed his cell phone off the dresser and pocketed it.

He moved out of his room and down the stairs as quickly as he could manage. He would do well not to be noticed, and he assumed he wouldn't be anyway. They were leaving for Paris this afternoon. He just had to play the avoiding game for the morning and then they'd be gone for a few weeks. Plenty of time for his father to cool off. He grabbed his keys off the table in the foyer, his hand reached out to grab the doorknob.

"Tristan."

So fucking close. Hand on the knob, he stopped at the sound of his name. Coming from the mouth of his father it was less than a pleasant noise. He didn't turn around, but continued facing the door.

"We'll be leaving in a few hours." William's voice was cold and hard. Tristan still made no move to face him. "We will be gone three weeks." He paused again. Maybe waiting for Tristan's response, maybe letting his words sink in. "While we're gone there will be no trouble from you. After your charade last night you would do well to stay on the beaten path. Do you understand me?" Still, Tristan did nothing.

After a few seconds of silence he heard his father's footsteps getting closer. Quickly. William grabbed his arm and spun his son around to face him.

Tristan looked up at his father, expressionless. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd shocked him. "You listen to me you pompous little jackass." William grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and pulled him closer. "You will do as you're told." Tristan looked up and locked eyes with his father, unthreatened. "You will cause no trouble, Tristan. You know what the consequences will be." He let his shirt go and pushed him back slightly. "Do you understand me?"

Tristan plastered on his society smile and nodded his head once. "Yes, sir," he spat. "I understand you."

They stood in silence for a few moments, just staring at each other. As if both were trying to see through the other. To will each other into nonexistence. But as much as Tristan wished it, his father remained. Cold. Unmoving. Unfeeling.

William took a step away, breaking eye contact with his son and shaking his head in disappointment. Tristan reached for the front door again, throwing it open and letting the hard wood slam closed behind him. He turned, thrusting an open hand against the brick of the house. "Fuck," he cursed, pushing himself off the wall and running his fingers through his hair.

He hated that man. He hated him with every fiber of his being and for once in his life he wanted to be able to put him in his place. He wanted William Dugrey to fall from his pedestal. Lose everything. He wanted his father to feel, just for one day, as insignificant as he made Tristan feel. Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

Tristan threw open his car door and pulled himself inside, putting it into gear and letting the tires move as fast as they could underneath him. He drove faster than he ever remembered driving, burning cigarette after cigarette, radio silent. Just the sound of the road beneath him.

He must have driven no where for hours before he ended up in her driveway. He was angry. And frustrated. And upset. And miserable. And he needed her. He shut off the engine and made his way quickly up the stairs knocking hard on her front door.

After just a few seconds the door opened and his eyes met hers. She didn't say anything, just looked at him. Watched him. As if making sure he was all there. And after a few moments of silence she held her arms open just slightly and he threw himself into them, moving her back into the house. They stood there, neither of them speaking, front door open. She held him against her tighter than she ever dreamed that she could and he buried his face in her hair. Inhaling her scent, memorizing her body with his arms.

He pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers. "I need you," he mumbled. His voice was soft and vulnerable. Almost frightened. She let her hands come up to rest against his face. She knew how hard it must be for him to admit this sober. While he knew exactly what he was saying. So she merely nodded against him. "Now," he whispered and she looked up at him, moving slowly to shut the front door, never leaving his embrace. She wanted to stay as close to him as she possibly could. Not that he would've let her go. He couldn't have done it if he tried.

She let her hands wind up through his hair and he closed his eyes tight, moving in to press his mouth hard and hot against hers. She kissed him back, fighting for control, pulling at his hair. He moved his arms around to her waist, lifting her to wrap her legs around his own waist. He moved them quickly into the living room, leaning up against the nearest wall to support both her weight and his own. She moved her lips to his neck and he let his head fall back. Her hands worked to pull his shirt up and over his head, which he allowed as quickly as her fingers could move.

When she had his shirt on the floor he moved his hands to hers, pulling it off and letting it join his on the floor. She slid down to the ground again, taking his hand and leading him to her bedroom. He followed her inside and closed the door with her body, pressing her hard against it and letting his hands roam anywhere he could reach.

In seconds the rest of their clothing was in a heap on the floor and he was laying them down on her bed, moving over her. He reached to her nightstand and it wasn't a second after the wrapper hit the floor that he was moving inside her. She thrusted against him, moving to meet his every move. He let his head fall to her shoulder as he quickened his pace.

"Tristan." Her voice came out as a breathy moan and it seemed to only excite him. He pressed his mouth, hot and open against her neck, sucking at biting as he moved against her.

"Fuck," he cursed as she wrapped her legs tighter around him, her breathing coming in moans against his ear. He gave one final thrust as they both came crashing down. She held onto him, shaking as she tried to regain her breathing. He let himself collapse against her, rolling onto his side and pulling her to him.

They lay there for what felt like forever, just holding onto each other. After a few minutes she propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him, reaching out to brush his hair back from his forehead. He looked up, meeting her eyes. "Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she mumbled back, waiting for him to say something that mattered.

"I'm sorry," were the first words that came to his mind. So that's what he said. He watched as her expression became surprised.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Tristan."

He chuckled lightly. "Not even last night?" He asked, rolling his head over to face her. She smiled but shrugged her shoulders.

She leaned over, pressing a kiss against his temple. "Tristan," she started and he sighed. "What happened?"

He let out another deep, long sigh and pulled her to rest against his chest, his fingers running slowly through her chestnut hair. "I don't know," he muttered. "I just lost it. I couldn't handle it anymore and I just couldn't control anything." He shrugged. "I just wanted the world to know what a bastard he is." Rory nodded against him. "I don't know, Mar. I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't be the elitist son. I couldn't just make him happy."

"They don't deserve you, Tristan," she mumbled against his chest and he smiled softly. "You're amazing."

He laughed and sat up, bringing Rory up with him. "Thank you."

She frowned. "For what?"

Tristan shrugged, shaking his head lightly. "For being here." He kissed her hair. "You're always here when I need you."

She smiled, curling against him. "Where else would I be?"

He said nothing, merely pulled her in as tightly as he could. The world was still out there, on the other side of her bedroom door. His shirt was still on the living room floor. Her mother could come home any minute. His father couldn't stand him. His mother was a drunken wreck most of the time. The girl in his arms was the one thing on the planet that mattered to him and he had no idea what he was doing with her. When they weren't fucking they were fighting. And he had no idea how they were going to get past that. Or why he needed her the way he did, or wanted her more than anyone. Or anything. His life was a mess. But his life was outside that bedroom door. For now he was holding everything that mattered. Right now everything was alright. And for just a few wish fulfilling moments, he wanted it to stay that way.


End file.
